Reset
by Dragonmorph
Summary: After he was compromised and executed, Joseph Allen has miraculously been revived and saved by the Task Force 141. How will Allen overcome the struggles and memories that haunt him? All he needs to know is to survive the world he rejoined again.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoy the story as have I writing it and weaving it with new ideas, research, inspiration, help and of course imagination into a story. It might not make sense at first, but bear with me. I hope you all enjoy as it'll make me happy :'D Thank you fellow MW2 fanfic writers… for the inspiration.**

**Please review 3**

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Reset

Chapter 1: No Russian

The sound of the elevator being pulled upwards electronically on the wires gave a bumpy, but smooth ride for a group of men aboard it as passengers. They all wore a bullet-proof vest underneath their non-civilian clothing and a large gun in their arms. Their large arms rested on the trigger of the weapon, readied to attack anyone who tries to interfere.

One man stood in the middle, and tugged at his shirt collar nervously. The orders the general gave him were firm and clear: _Earn Makarov's trust and don't lend him any suspicion of you. _ That was the last thing Joseph Allen wanted-to be discovered as an undercover spy against the famous Russian terrorist. The fact they're at an airport with unarmed civilians got him curious of this plan; a plan he never heard of nor does the expression on Makarov's face expose any info.

He quickly shoved the thoughts away to avoid leaking any worries that may appear on his face. He can't let anyone realize he's Joseph Allen, but rather one named Alexei Borodin. How General Sheperd gave up with the name remains unknown, but his thoughts on it led him to believe it's a real person, and not a randomly generated name.

"Borodin, are you alright?" Viktor questioned without a hint of suspicion.

"Yeah, I'm good."

Makarov stood beside Borodin, his gun lowered and his double-colored eyes focused seriously on him. "Remember- no Russian." He spoke with a Russian accent, but the language he spoke is English.

His men nodded and grunted as the elevator door opened, and a loud ding reminded them that their destination is here. Everyone positioned themselves, acting casual like any other "regular" person and walked out steadily.

A massive group was waiting their turn at the airport, unaware of the armed men coming from behind them. Makarov eyed them and his lips formed into a mischievous grin. He signaled the order to fire with his free arm and the triggers were pulled. The unfortunate victims barely got to say the sound of fear, which fed the black hearts of the terrorists. The few who were dying let up a piercing scream that sent chills down Borodin's spine.

_What the hell am I doing? _He quivered as his finger slowly pulled the trigger on a female hugging the wall with widened eyes. He was positive he heard her murmur confusion in a familiar language. He lowered his gun and one of Makarov's men fired at her instead.

"Ha! No time for you to relish in that opportunity, Alexei!" Viktor teased, following behind Makarov to their escape from the airport.

"Cut the chatter, we got to move. Come on, the men are coming on to us!" Makarov signaled Borodin and Viktor to follow behind him. They sprinted into the opening without hesitation.

The cops were right behind them, and groups of soldiers awaited their arrival with riot shields for support against flying bullets. Makarov ordered his men to fire anyway, and they eventually died from their worn-out shields failing upon them.

Borodin felt his skin get punctured by bullets, and made haste to a nearby pole for some defense. Another racing thought clawed its way through his mental barriers to send his stomach churning. _Do I really have to _attack_ them? _His expression questioned Makarov and he nodded silently.

_This is of your own accord, Sheperd. I'll earn his trust, even if I dislike the actions they perform. _Allen thought mildly. Borodin lifted his gun and pulled the trigger.

…

"Well done." Makarov genuinely complemented his men. He shot a glance at an ambulance making haste to the group.

The rear end of the get-away vehicle's doors open, and a man inside pointed towards the inside of the ambulance urgently. The men followed and Makarov sprung up, spinning around and stretched his hand to aid Borodin. Blinded by the outcome, Borodin believed he wanted him to join in, but a strong force knocked him to the ground. Allen felt disoriented, and his vision blurred as pain spread all through his body rapidly.

Makarov smirked, hiding the M9 in his jacket. "Once the Russian government finds the body of an American soldier and evidence of a terrorist attack by them, the war will be ignited. General Sheperd better be prepared if that is what he wanted."

Allen felt his still body and his possessions looted by the Russian FSB team. They were all hissing hatred at the incident. He knew he was bleeding to death and he was going to die right here. Right now. Yet, his mind felt _alive _as it slowly fades from his grasp.

_Sheperd set me up as a pawn to his plan? Makarov wanted to ignite the war too? How could they? _

….

_I am dying._

_I've been betrayed by my own people._

_The betrayal led to my death._

_I began a lie in the war._

…_Who am I?_


	2. Chapter 2

**I know Toad and Archer are snipers, but one fanfic gave them the knowledge as medics so...**

Chapter 2: Instincts

"Is he alright?"

"Stupid question, Soap. He appears to be a corpse."

Soap sent his friend a cold stare, fixing his stare into a softened one towards the limp form resting on an unused bunk. The warm hands felt the spark of ice cold skin and the neck had barely a pulse; beating softly and faintly. Despite the cold barrier, the man was drained of all color and is very pale from the loss of blood. Worry crept upon Soap as his unsure expression changed immediately.

"It'll be a miracle if he survives. Makarov's gun grazed his chest and nicked part of his shoulder as well."

"Price, have you seen Toad?"

Price folded his arms and shook his head.

"Damn." Soap muttered.

"Soap…," Price lifted part of his hat; his blue eyes are weary underneath the shadows. "Is he worth saving? He might not make it."

"No he ain't on my watch."

"If he dies… Remember we all fought with our lives to rescue him from the Russian government."

"Don't worry. Toad or Archer will save them."

"So much trust, Soap. Remember about Sheperd's betrayal?"

"I don't give a damn about Sheperd. Archer and Toad saved Ghost and Roach and we know we can trust them. What remains of Task Force 141 remains loyal to us." Soap cringed at his temper and voice rising up at the argument.

"Alright, you win. But don't come to me for help if we're screwed by the U.S."

Price gave a cold hard stare before exiting the room in silence. The door was slammed shut as if he was truly angered at Soap's worries for the man. Muttering was heard before footsteps followed after, and faded away into the cold night.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind." Soap rolled his eyes and picked up a cigar. The door hinges squeaked and caught Soap's attention before he planned to use what he holds in his hand. The Captain backed up and awaited the mysterious figure peering through the thin crack of the door.

"Toad?"

"Captain Mctavish?" The questioning voice replied.

"Oi, Toad." Soap motioned his free hand towards the unconscious man lying on the cot. His chest began to heave slowly, but surely, letting the two know he's fighting to survive.

Toad gave an awkward smile-frown mixture. "Huh. Price told me you needed help with a _dead _soldier not a brutally injured one." He quickly added after noticing Soap cringe," But don't worry! I'll tend to him, sir."

The Captain looked up; light shine in his eyes. "Thank you…"

He immediately left the room in silence, but worry crept upon him once more like a fly annoying a human or when he has to deal with Roach being a pain to Ghost. A sigh escaped his lips. He knew Toad. Never had he once betrayed or toss the team into trouble. Same with Archer.

_Careful of trust… _Price's words reminded him warningly.

Soap shoved the thoughts away. "Sure, sure."

* * *

The voices were overwhelming to the weakening, feeble mind slowly dying internally. His body feels stiff, and dazed from the long period of lying on the hard cot like he was a stick that was abandoned, condemned to die. The cold temperature was the only thing that could allow nature to grant some kind of movement to his idle form. He shook by instinct to warm up in the room. Later on, he could breathe the clean oxygen, but irritation shortened his temper when he fails to gasp mouthfuls of air.

Heat is given to him, but only a large area received the heat his freezing body siphoned. The little life flickering is confused by the strange beating of another organism. The spark of life feels trouble coming from the strange breathing, the steady beat of a healthy heart, and the soft whispers of a young man. Instincts burned through him. The disoriented vision cleared the fog blocking his view of life, and a surge of life surprised the insides that fought so long.

"His pulse; I can feel it returning to normal." Toad glanced downwards at the unconscious form stirring slightly. "Impossible…"

…

The man's battered up body shook at the unstable life lifting up his weight. The flickering spark of light exploded into a blazing fire and everything functioned again. His pale eyelids fluttered, opening slowly and revealing dark, green eyes burning with life. Not even the ice-cold air could blow out what he now clings so close to.

The immediate target his vision caught was a young man backing up. _Intruder! _His insides screamed in fear. He replied back rapidly, whirling around for a nearby gun resting on a nearby table and pointed it at Toad.

…

"E-easy, mate…," Toad stutters slightly, his left hand up and his other shuffling his waist for a weapon. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Who the hell do you think I am? A _mate_?" The man snarled aggressively, ready to pull the trigger at any moment.

"No, not that mate," Toad corrected him. "Like a friend or buddy."

The man's suspicious look in his eyes still remains. "I'm not stupid, monster."

Toad squeaked at the harsh insult, but attempted to ignore it because the armed man doesn't know what's going on. "You're safe from the Russians. Nobody's going to hurt you." After that sentence, a sign of recognition unfolded in his memories. There was a man that looked similar to the wounded one; same dark, grassy-green eyes, same dark hair (although it's shaggy and tangled rather than groomed), and the determined gleam matches both descriptions.

"J-Joseph Allen?" Toad questioned, amazed.

"I'm not Joseph Allen!"

Allen pulled the trigger and two gun shots set off.

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**I hope that was a good start for Chapter 2 ^_^ Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry if I got anything inaccurate about the characters. If I do, let me know ^_^**

Chapter 3: Joseph

Men hung around the deserted area few meters from the barracks. Bored as they were, they demanded something to perk their interest, but nothing ever came to them. Rather, it had a mind of its own. Two gunshots rang out, and the explosion echoed. The group sprinted to join in on the commotion, but the closer they got, the more confused they came. The loud cheering ended up being a distress call and a piercing scream of a man crying for help. Someone got hurt.

…

"Toad? Toad!" Soap scanned over the wounded soldier and his arms trembled hovering over the body caked with blood. Looking down, he noticed two holes in the mid-section of chest, and luckily it didn't seem like a strong attack. _The killer didn't have a steady shot. _He thought, relieved of the even harsher fate Toad would have received.

Toad's reaction took a shocking toll; he lost blood, and his body trembled in fear. Everyone marveled at his strength, even the Captains couldn't believe he survived after few hours in the dark.

Soap gently took one side of Toad while another soldier approached, kneeling down into the red puddle, extending his arms and lifting the other side. Soap's teal pupils bounced, and his eyebrows fluttered as they carried Toad outside to be tended to.

"Soap, what the hell happened to Toad?" The soldier glanced worriedly at Toad then upwards at Soap.

"I noticed that the man we rescued isn't there. Neither are the guns." Soap replied guiltily, slowly walking backwards.

Soap could tell in the calm, blue eyes behind Archer's goggles, he _really _wanted Toad to be alright. They both have been buddies and partners for years; well, that was what Ghost told him when he questioned the right-hand man about their relationships. Toad was the first to be recruited to One-Four-One, and Archer followed up afterwards months later. Both are flawless snipers, and their knowledge of mending the wounded came in handy often.

He cursed silently; he never showed his gratitude for them. They saved Ghost and Roach from the scorching flames conjured by Sheperd's cigar. The two even tended to their burnt skin and patched up what they can. The four appeared right when he thought Task Force 141 collapsed into mere dust.

"Archer," He spoke after minutes of pondering. "I never had been so grateful for saving Ghost and Roach. I never thought I… I'd live with regret."

Archer regained his interest on another subject. He lifted his head and smiled shyly. "Anytime, Captain McTavish. We all are a team that cannot stand to be apart."

Time flew by quickly, and Archer stayed behind to help with his friend. Soap left the two alone as Toad began to regain consciousness. It didn't remain quiet for long when the Captain spotted another man approaching him.

"Soap! Have you—"

"Oi, Price. I heard about happened to Toad. He's going to be alright." Soap interrupted.

"Wait? I hope Toad heals. But I was meaning to tell you something else."

"What is it?"

"I found the man we saved from those FSB men. He tried to strangle Roach. Wrong place at the wrong time. Luckily, Ghost managed to break the grip in time when he saw Roach trying to screech for help."

Soap stared, silent and dumbfounded at Price's discovery. The man looked so peaceful. Is he really someone who lost his sanity? He disagreed. The Russians must've driven him crazy or something, but appeared _dead_. So much to think and theorize…

"Soap?"

"Huh?" Soap snapped back to the reality to catch Price's questioning glance. "Nothing, Price."

Price half-smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. "He passed out, but we better go check and see if we can get some answers before he wreaks havoc again."

Soap cringed at the idea of interrogating the poor guy. Price caught his gaze and laughed.

"Naw, Ghost won't do his way. We'll do our own." He answered the look on Soap's face.

* * *

Borodin sensed people near him, and voices echoed into his mind. They all rumbled with interesting sound waves of men. The pitch black surroundings faded into a bright room teaming with humans.

"M-Makarov?" He breathed, noticing a man with green and blue eyes. "I'm okay… Did our mission s-succeed?"

The scenery transformed into the outside of an airport and men ran, shooting at the group. Fury raged in their lust-driven eyes as they approached. Makarov seemed so fearless, it amazed Borodin.

The get-away vehicle arrived in the nick of time, and a pleased smirk formed on his face. He didn't notice Borodin's stuttering nor did the nauseous, shy look compromise his cover.

"Our war began…"

The soft crow erupted into a menacing growl. Before Borodin could make a move or realize the next step of Makarov's plan, he felt the bullet knocked him off his feet. The pain he felt before wasn't as intense, but his disoriented vision blacked out abnormally.

Makarov guffawed, "You're such a worthless American trying to fool me. Sheperd will be happy that your thick-headed self will never see daylight ever again. Once the Russians find that Americans terrorized here, a war will be ignited."

"Let's go, Makarov!"

Allen couldn't see anything, but he knew the betrayer smirked before turning his back.

"No! I won't let you!" Allen squirmed once more, yelling defiance against the man he loathes.

His eyes shot open, and his shallow breathing turned into desperate gasps. Regret of his ignorance overwhelmed him when his green eyes locked on the tattoo marked on the naked torso. It is there permanently to remind him of the wrong his own kindred would do to him. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he wept silently in the dark.

_Why didn't I just kill Makarov? Sheperd would bitch on and on about disobeying, but it would've saved my life and I would never of experienced such. I would have known._

Allen lifted his head and noticed two men standing at the doorway. One hand hit the switch and the light flickers before turning on. He desperately searched for camouflage, and only found boxes somewhat hiding his paralyzed body.

_Weak hiding spot, but it'll do. _The men murmured to each other, but the sound of footsteps never echoed to him. It barely occurred to him that they would notice his presence.

"Soap, do you really think he's one of the soldiers?"

"There were five guns laid out, each with a different purpose. He chose the one where it's likely to puncture through the body if used correctly."

"You're still defending him." The tone of the older man gotten irritated and snappy at the defense.

No reply came, but another sound came to his ears: the sound of footsteps gradually getting louder.

"He's alive, Soap."

Allen's eyes widened as a glimpse of a bearded man peered over the top of the boxes. He wanted to make a run for it, but it'll just compromise his presence once more. He became confused when another man saw him; he looked younger, but scars ran down the side of his face. Despite their weary, worn-out faces, the two men carry an assuring smile towards _him_.

"Soap, find anyone that matches this muppet right here?" The harsh sound in his voice already disappeared and replaced with a soft, friendly note.

"Found one that shares dark hair, green eyes, and olive skin." Soap replied, looking up and making contact with the bearded man.

"What's his name?"

"PFC. Joseph Allen."

Allen gaped. _Is he Joseph Allen? _

He looked at his ravaged body, noticing the same attributes the man mentioned.

_I am Joseph Allen._


	4. Chapter 4

**Gah, please don't hurt me Dx I didn't forget o.o**

**I just fixed myself on a new concept unlike the old chapter 4 draft I left somewhere in my room(and my ex-boyfriend mentioned what he thought the concept of the first chapter was, so I'll be using bits and pieces of that for the next chapters)… Since it ends with Joseph finding his identity... Well, I think this might work starting from the older writing. **

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 4: Identity

_No…no… I'm not Joseph Allen dammit. I'm Alexei Borodin. Makarov, Viktor, Anatoly, all my Russian brothers told me I'm one of them. My tattoo proves it. _Everything_ proves it. _Borodin and his sanity trembled in thought. His eyes are fixed on his wounded chest at the dim teal marking of the cathedral revealing his imprisonment, but he began to notice the winged dagger hidden on the far left of his broad chest. It matched the one on the emblem of the two soldiers' uniforms, which frightened him even more. He isn't sure about anything, and his stomach churned when the Scottish man muttered "Joseph Allen" and "Alexei Borodin" under his breath.

"Private Allen?" The older man spoke softly; His eyes revealed a bright blue, still keeping an innocent look either to deceive to reveal a kind meaning behind it.

Soap only looked away and sighed at the fail attempt. He motioned his former Captain to stop, but few mutters and the feud ended quickly. The two men moved back further, allowing a silent message to be transported to Allen if he receives it. They can only hope.

Sweat poured down Borodin's face. One side of him wanted to believe the two soldiers are harmless, while the other screamed _'Get a gun and shoot them too.' It _was Makarov's voice that called to him; a command that instantly drove his own vehicle: a body diving to the floor, racking with pain and forceful twitching. He couldn't cry out in the moment of his pain, and agony, torture from betrayal. It was then he felt warm hands slowly assure him of his fears and his body went to a still motion.

"He's still alive, but we need to find Chemo." Soap exclaimed, his heart pounding from adrenaline.

"…."

"Price, do you read me?"

"Chemo's dead, Soap." Price choked out sourly. The shade of his hat hides the sorrow covering his eyes, and he turned his body away from the younger soldier since he knew Soap was ready to burst. "Archer tried to save him after tending to Toad. The wound was too grave. He died early this…morning."

Soap held in his emotions, doing his best not to let his fury and sadness overcome him. He knew it wasn't Price's fault, but there wasn't anything else they can do. Only few soldiers survived the betrayal, but Ghost and Roach received the hardest blow. His fists scrunched up at the words, but he kept quiet.

"Private Allen?" Soap whispered, gently shaking the half-naked man curled up into a deformed ball. "It's alright. Nobody will hurt _you_."

_Borodin's vision changed back to where a picture of a malicious bi-colored eyed man stretches to fit his entire sight. It then exposed Sheperd talking to him when his own voice startled him._

"_I'm ready to go, sir." Allen spoke with pure confidence. "But…"_

"_But what, Private?" Sheperd questioned, now revealing the impatient gleam in his dark eyes._

"_Makarov might find out… He might know I'm not who he thinks I am."_

"_That's shitty nonsense, Private. Nobody will hurt you. Only those who will stand against you for crimes, but you'll take them down." Sheperd winked, and patted Allen's back before descending towards the back, leaving Allen to find the Ultranationalist leader himself and by himself._

"_Here we go…"_

"Argghhh! Sheperd, you bastard! Why?" Allen cried out, immediately bouncing to his feet and held his position in defense against the hallucinations of Sheperd and Makarov. "You tried to kill Ma… No, Sheperd tried to use… noo—arghh."

Soap kneeled down and noticed the scabs opening up from moving his body. Borodin wouldn't move to his shock, and Price shook his head to warn Soap that it's not best to reveal the man who wounded Toad.

"We got to save him, Price!" Soap almost snapped, ending with a soft feral growl escaping his clenched teeth. "Have you forgotten?"

Price shook his head," He has mental issues due to Sheperd and Makarov. It'll be impossible to relieve him of most of it. You know Ghost well, but he handled it when Roach was there for him. We don't know much about Allen to give him any help."

"Then, we'll try."

"You're on your own with him. You might be able to "cure" him, but watch out for any strange behaviors. He fricken shot Toad and nearly punched you—"

"It's called 'self-defense'." Soap replied, unable to control the short temper ready to burst out.

"It's your choice, Soap. We'll keep him here, but we may have to find other methods."

Both men eyed one another with their cold eyes replaced by ice burning up. Fights were made in the past, but Allen's appearance made everyone weary and ill-tempered lately. The fiery shards melted into a warm feeling after time and the two resumed to tending Allen.

Borodin's eyes shot open once more, and his senses finally come back slowly. He felt like he sensed anger rushing through the two men in the background, but he couldn't make out the reason. The feuds ended to his relieve, but another sense struck him: revenge, anger, sorrow.

…

A knock pounded on the wooden door, almost knocking the hinges out of place. Soap and Price turned around and they too sensed something bad would happen. They glanced at each other and nodded wile Soap moved slowly and his large hand rubbed the knob of the door. Price kept casual and sighed when the injured man remained quiet.

"Lets hope he remains quiet for the duration of the soldiers' visit."

Soap nodded silent in response, turning the knob and heard voices from the small crack that opened. The thin air itself is not soundproof, but he couldn't translate the muttering. The tone of their words are universal.

"Shite…" Soap hissed, "It's Archer and he looks _pissed_."

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**"Revenge is just an act of passion... isn't that what you live for?" - Anonymous**


	5. Chapter 5

**I haven't updated this in god knows how long. Lets just add this chapter to make you happy. I sort of lost my love for Call of Duty, but it doesn't mean I won't stop writing anymore stories about it. I'm going to have a few mess-ups since I may forget some things. I'm just relying on you tube now XD Maybe even for the campaign mode for the new Call of Duty. My money's on the Skyrim. **

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Chapter 5: Runaway

"This doesn't look good, Price." Soap harshly hissed through his teeth. "Get Allen the hell out of here!"

"Roger." Price nodded, backing up into the walls and towards the boxes where the young man hid in fear and confusion.

The knocking-pounding to any other- grew louder and louder, already bitter curses leaked through the small hole, yet Soap kept his grip on the knob. The light poked through, but it wasn't what freaked the Captain out this time. Archer was a cheerful guy, but his passion for justice burned as much as the first refugees desire for revenge against Sheperd, It still lingered in each stop kick and knock, and he sensed it was time to open it soon.

"Soap! Soap! Let me in? I know you're hiding someone we want to talk with. Just open the _damn _door." Archer pleaded.

Soap hesitated, and raised his focus towards Price. "Is he…?"

Price held his hand up to stop his next words and silently nodded to keep Archer from hearing their conversation. The uproar outside was laid thick enough to cover up most of their words and a small percent of Archer's voice which still echoed.

"Come on, you two!"

The two men inside the building stared at one another, waiting for one to send the signal to open the door. Price and Allen hid safely behind the boxes, disguising themselves as pitch-black. A hand rose up and wove moderately, and the one at the door faced the creaking source. Archer's voice stopped coming through.

"Come in, Archer." Soap sighed, slowly opening the door.

Archer barged in, breathing heavily and his body twisted to both sides in search of something. "Where is he, Soap? I know what he did to Toad." He walked towards the boxes and examined there too.

Soap flinched as the troubled man inched forward towards the hiding spot, and because of the rage his friend held at this moment, which led him to one thing: Toad. "Toad?" He coughed out.

Archer turned around, "He's alright. He kept saying to spare that Alfred guy who nearly killed him. Who would forgive someone like that?" His eyes that went out at Soap's question, but lit up again as he thought of the incident.

"Archer, just relax. I can ex-"

"No! I'm doing this for Toad." Archer pulled out a handgun, his arm shaky.

"Would Toad forgive you if you killed a misunderstanding man?" Soap calmly tried to reason .

"So you do know that crazy bastard." He accused angrily. The gun pointed right at Soap's chest, but the trigger remained untouched as if he was bluffing to interrogate.

"It's not whether I know him or not. He was scared and Toad's arrival surprised him." He continued, unfazed.

"Oh so now it's Toad's fault for causing this mess."

Soap shook his head and sighed. "Be glad that Toad recovers and the problem with Allen will be solved." He stated, authority returning to his tone. "We may be refuges, but never go against your higher ranks."

Archer stared . "If that's so. I'll leave him be. If I see him anywhere and if he terrorizes any good people. He'll feel my wrath." He stormed out and slammed the door behind him.

…

Soap took a deep breath of relief and relaxed his sore shoulders from playing the authority card with his fellow teammate who lost it because of a confused man. He cursed to himself, knowing he's to blame for the problems that rose in the place. His revenge led to running away from the government and now his instinct to protect an old teammate led to everyone growing restless. He ignored the rest of his guilt to check on the two hidden away.

"It was amazing how he didn't notice how you guys because that would've been h- Price?" Soap began, but paused to question.

No answer.

"Price? You there?" He tried again, more concerned.

Besides the continuous uproar outside, the building kept silent and ignored the frantic tone of the man inside. Soap lunged for the boxes, and landed close enough to the sharp corners. He relied on the senses learned in training when it comes to darkness despite the night vision goggles since the Russians easily snuck up on the "blind." His hand lowered behind the boxes, swinging it sideways for any body in reach. He couldn't feel any warm temperatures besides the descending sun above the roof.

"Price? Allen? Where did you two go?" He called out again.

…

"Soap?" A familiar voice called out. "Is that you?"

"Price?" Soap whirled around and noticed the shadow approaching him slowly.

"It's a relief you're safe from Archer. When he caused an outburst, Allen crawled off rather quickly. He probably knows he did that to Toad and left to hide in another spot. I tried to follow him, but he was pretty smart to use the evening sky."

"Archer will kill him if he isn't found straight away." Soap added.

Price went pale. "It's best we find him before the sun rises."

"Right."

…

_Borodin… Do not fail me on your mission. You're in the headquarters of my enemies. Take them out while you can at night and we'll prosper in our new land. You'll be promoted to a new rank and you'll be adored. Just kill them all if they give you hospitality. Use your senses to outsmart them and frame others. It's just a simple task._

Borodin squirmed at the poisonous voice eating at his mind. "Stop! Stop! Please, I don't understand."

_You do, Borodin. Ignore them and be _mine_. Be Alexei Borodin._


End file.
